The Wolf and the Jackal: An ACIII Story
by MetalSetter
Summary: What happens when I, an average 13-year-old tomboy gets thrown into the world of Assassin's Creed? And even more so, what about when I meet an assassin? Rated T for some cursing and minorly suggested themes. I do not plan on it being any higher. at all.
1. It's True! Chapter 1

My breath came in shallow gasps as I ran. Footfalls behind me alerted me to my pursuers' presence. They were obviously gaining on m. As green, gray, tan and brown flew by me, marred by occasional flashes of red and horse pelts, I tripped._Stupid! _Gasping as I fell, the ground welcomed my face with sticks and stones quite capable of breaking my bones.

Strong, gloved hands lifted me up by the hair and I let out a small yelp as they held me against the owner's rancid smelling chest. A knife glinted menacingly; it was a contrast to my pale, fear-drained skin. "Try anything and I'll slit your pretty little throat, _foreigner_." The last word was sunk into my ear like pit-viper venom.

Okay! Hold up! I know what you're thinking and _no_, I do not live in the Revolutionary War's era, I do not own a musket or flintlock pistol, I refuse to wear a dress or skirt, and I reserve the right that whatever I say can and will be used against me, so whoever happens to be holding me right now in the story, can kiss my American ass!

In reality, I'm just your average, run of the mill, 21st century barely teenage girl. One day I JUST so happened to be walking by a stream and a lovely OH WAIT I'M SO SORRY BUT I'M GOING TO TRIP YOU rock comes along as I'm distracted by a bird and bibbity bam-boo-ba-cha WELCOME TO THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION!

Just so you know who you're dealing with somewhat, I'm about 5'3", really dark, almost black, brown hair, same colored eyes, and pretty pale skin, but tanner arms, which are usually showing. I like my arms and like to show them off. Besides, they've got a few scars on 'em, and scars are the coolest thing before guns and knives. And a pretty average figure, and about weight. I'll just say it's over 100 lbs..

_**Back to the story.**_

Looking around, I realized none of the other red-coats had caught up yet or found a way through the foliage. Yet. In a unexpectable, unpredictable move, I jerked my head up in a blur and bit the man's knife hand when it rebounded back down, tearing said object from his hand and sprinting away with the small rest I'd found in danger's grasp.

As I ran he pain on my end came back with a vengeance in the top of my head._Ow._

Taking a last look back I dived off an overhang twice my height into water. Cold. Water, I clawed my way to the bank and crawled to a fallen tree close to the shallow water so as to not leave any real tracks.

My breathing was harsh, but soundless due to the panic, adrenaline, and fear coursing through my veins. As the red-coats stormed past I scarcely dared to examine their feet. They were standing by the tree._ Well isn't this just great._

"Little runt! What'd a...lil' wimp...like 'er be...doin' out 'ere...anyways?" The voice was gruff, gravelly even. The speaker was also out of breath and gulping in oxygen.

It seemed like hours passed before they moved on. Even when they were out of earshot, I stayed hidden a few moments longer. Then, standing up, I kicked out at the water frustrated.

"Okay! I get it! Stop being such a bitch to me, okay life?" I sat down and sighed. "Well, let's look at the positives. I'm alive, fresh water from a future-polluted creek, shelter tree. Yep, I'm screwed!"

Just moments later as I ranted, the pounding of hooves and shouts alerted me to someone's coming presence. I ducked down lightly cloaked by the tree. Men in red coats exploded out of the trees and onto the shore, several fell from arrows and knives that flitted like death's messengers towards them; a white silhouette dropped from the branches overhead and dashed towards the others, finishing them off with a weirdly-shaped tomahawk.

"_Holy shit!_" The lone figure whipped towards me and I shot behind the thicker part of the trunk. I counted to ten before peering above the log again and felt a bile taste rising in my throat at the massacre laid out before me. Even if that was who I think it was, he's gone. "The fridgit? Where is-"

My words were cut short by someone, forcibly, turning me around and staring at me._ Holy mother of microwaves. It's Connor. Kenway._"Who are you?" His voice was just like it had been in the game trailers. Snapping out of the shock of meeting one of my favorite video game characters, I responded.

"Courtney. And your name is Connor, Connor Kenway, right?" For a moment the tanned face just looked at my own, then it suspiciously studied me. He could tell I was not from the area. At all. Could he tell I was from the same country? Considering we're talking a 2 century difference, I'd say no.

"Do I know you?"_No. But I know you._ Would he even consider it if I told him I was from the future?

"No, but look. This is really important because I know I can't run away but I know I can trust you so _please _let go of me." He released his grip on my shoulder after a moment's hesitation and patiently waited. I sighed and reached in my pocket, bringing out a small, colorful piece of an antique. I handed it to him slightly embarrassed at if he would read the inside and said, "Read the bottom."

His callused hand slowly removed the object from my own. Turning it over in his hands, he scanned the inscription.""ENESCO COROPORATION/1996 JIM SHORE/MADE IN CHINA"...?" He looked from it to me and then shook his head, mumbling to himself. "That's impossible. It's 1776. Why are you trying to trick me, young lady?"_Pffft- okay mother._

"I'm not trying to trick you! Do I _look_ strong enough to carve that in stone?" For a moment he considered. ON one hand, I'm crazy insane, the other, I'm from the future.

"Prove that you're from 1996-"

2012. That's 16 years old or... 220 years non-existent."

"Fine. Prove that you're from 2012. 5 reasons."

_5 reasons?_{Oh no! cliché!} Jeeze. Okay let's see..."Well, there's that, my clothes, uhhh, some of the random things on my necklace...um..." I pulled out the things from my pocket. "My I-Pod, which lets you listen to music with _these _which are ear buds, my plastic guitar picks, AND this book." I tugged the small paperback out of my bag, a copy of "Rot & Ruin". "I'd say I've just exceeded the required amount of reasons to believe me. That's 7."

After a couple of moments he nodded slowly and started dragging me along by the arm. I complained, of course, but he ignored me.

I picked an amazing traveling partner.


	2. Getting to know each other Chapter 2

The promised chapter 2 is here~ Wish I'd make them longer, but oh well, better than nothing, right? Well, looks like me and Connor have a little fight here, all too easy to guess who wins in the long run, right? Also, thanks to those who reviewed! It's really nice to know people like the story so far! _**On to the**_** story.**

"Connor?"

"…"

"Connor?"

"…"

"Connor? Connor? Connor? Con? Con? Con? Conny? Conny? Conny? Conny-o-boy? Connor? Conny-o-boy?... Daddy?"

"_What?_" _Aha!_

"Ok. Few things. One, where are we going? Two, how long will it take? And three, when are we eating." The shape in front of me sighed deeply and thought for a moment.

"Boston, 3 days at least, and later." He replied simply and uninterested. Our conversations had been like this the majority of the way; I would ask something and he'd reply as exhaustedly and fake being as bored as he could.

"Ok… Cool. That long? And why not now?" Me, being the half-spoiled, food-loving but not obese or overweight individual I am-due to a lucky metabolism and the fact I was outside walking around in the sparse, polluted woods behind my house half the time- wanted said object.

"Yes, and because it wastes daylight."

"_Alright, Conny._" The assassin let out a growling breath as I spoke his irritating nick-name, after being on the gray-white horse for only, you know, about _4 hours_ I was pretty bored. And tired. And hungry, of course. Although, it was rather funny I had to put the term "daddy" over his head to catch his attention.

As we continued in silence, I began to do what I usually did on the bus back in the future. Take note of the most ridiculously small things in the surrounding area and try to remember them for later. The trees, for one, were mainly coniferous, some of the nettles had fallen onto the ground and formed a patchy, broken carpet of miniature spines. The bushes and rainbow-ranged flowering vegetation shielded anything behind them from view. The refreshing and endless chorus of wildlife greeted my ears warmly. To be honest, I doubted anyone-save a few exceptions- had heard anything like this in the industrialized cities of the 20-21st centuries

"America's nothing like this…" I murmured subconsciously.

Connor shifted ever so slightly. "What are you talking about?"

"Wha- Oh, well, mainly there's farmland and cities, _huge_ cities, bigger than anything you might ever see in your lifetime."

Staying within a thoughtful silence's grasp, Connor failed to reply immediately.

"The cities here are pretty big."

"_Yeah?_" I muttered back. "Imagine a city you couldn't see the end from, not even on the highest building, then imagine harbors and docks full of ships powered by gasoline!" Pausing, I noted he may have never heard of the substance, not to mention many people in the era I was trapped within. "It's a future thing. It tends to harm the environment a lot when it's not used properly."

Turning quite abruptly and nearly causing me to fall off the horse, his eyes searched mine for any sign of lying. He didn't. For once, I wished I hadn't been right; I kind of liked the clean fresh air of the past, the un-polluted crisp-tasting water sources, and the huge forests. I hated to break it even more-so to someone who had lived in the place his life here, it had to be a hard blow on him.

When he brought the creature to a stop, it was still light out and the simple fact of this confused me. Hadn't he said something about "wasting daylight?"

"Um, what are we doing?" Before being gifted with a response, the assassin took his sweet time tying the horse's reins to a branch loosely.

"We're stopping early so you can get some basic ideas of how to defend yourself. The last thing I need is to get to Boston and no one believe a girl from the future was with me at some point."

"18th century assassin say _what now_?" I gaped as I stared critically at him. He looked at me with the kind of "you're really going to do this now?" type of face. He ran a hand over his face for about the thirty-seventh time that day and muttered something incoherent to my stunned ears.

Removing several of the weapons from his person, he left only his hidden blade on for the excruciating practice sure to commence. "Do you know how to fight at all?" Shaking my head and taking a step back nervously I held my hands out to the sides in a half shrug.

"Ahahaha-heh-heh, how exactly would we train again? Because all I know is that you punch, kick, bite if you have to, and if all else fails the one place all males have is the place to kick."

Raising an eyebrow he took several steps forward. This was matched stride by stride by a back-pedaling step of my own. Suddenly smiling, amused by my all bark no bite nature, he rushed at me and threw a punch using a fraction of his full arm-power. Ducking down and kicking out at his patella, I barely avoided having a new bruise to complain about. Hissing slightly at the shoe-on-bone contact through his thigh-high boots, he aimed a careful kick at my stomach. Sadly to say, I was too slow.

Coughing and sucking in air at second-long intervals, I prepared myself for the next wind-stealing blow coming my way. As he was two feet away I rolled onto my right shoulder towards him and winced as his foot made contact with the small of my back. Hearing the man fall behind me I stood once again and raised my fists. Then the full reality of my situation hit me. I was fighting an assassin. Sure, practice, but it's still _fighting a freaking assassin_.

"Not bad, not bad." He chuckled. "Not quite good enough, however." Supporting himself on his arms, he swept a leg in a wide arc, effectively knocking me off my feet once again. Wait a second, if he's allowed to talk smack, why can't _I_?

"Yeah? Well, at least I'm not wearing a coat that looks like a dress, _my lady_." Oh my god. What have I done? Letting out a laugh, Connor leapt at me, throwing two punches at my stomach and then turning me around and twisting my arm behind my back. _Oh my god that hurts_.

"Are we done yet, spoiled princess?" Ok. You can call me a liar, thief, a whore, a slut, but nobody, _nobody_, has the right to call me a spoiled princess!

Jerking my head back in a similar move I'd used on the redcoat that had me by the throat earlier, I began swinging punches and kicks at the half-brit half-native male in front of me. As soon as he caught my left leg in a kick to his abdomen, he smirked.

"_Aww,_ That's so sad, and you were doing so well, _princess_!" For a split second my face scowled in rage, but then it let an evil, twisted, mischievous grin. That smirk was wiped directly off his face as I fell limp and the unexpected weight brought the guy down. Rolling out of his way, I immediately allowed myself to rest. On a rather comfy chair. And by chair I mean Connor is now being sat upon. This is a good day.

"…_really?_ You are _seriously_ using me as a chair?" Sticking out my tongue and making a face at him, I nodded in triumph. "Well, I can't exactly allow this." Flipping over onto his back, I was now trapped under a 200 pound dude. He smiled back down innocently as I pouted. "You know, I was going easy on you. It only gets more difficult from here on out, Courtney."

Thankfully, he didn't punish me for long with the same treatment. Standing, he asked, out of the blue, "Do you have any weapons?"

I handed him the knife I'd taken from the redcoat and my own pocket knife, flipping it open for him. I swore I had sharpened that thing a hundred times in the year or two I'd owned it. Taking the sharp objects from my hand, he examined them for several seconds. "Why do you want them?" I glared.

"This way I know what you are familiar with. This… flippy knife-"

"_Pocket knife._"

"-Pocket knife is good for throwing, weighted on the handle. This dagger is what I'll start you with when it comes to armed combat. Also, have you used a bow before?" Looking at him darkly I nodded. "Good, now see that birch tree? Figure out a way to climb it."

"_Why?_" Okay, now that the adrenaline from the fight was wearing off, I was sore. Pfft- I'm pathetic. Until it comes to insults, then I'm a genius.

"So you're not stuck on the ground wearing yourself off when I may need you to distract the guards or maybe help me get in somewhere, rather than being full of bullets, torn to shreds, and have a volley of arrows in your back." Glaring at him and grinding my teeth I nodded. Before turning to said tree, I held my palm open for the weapons. Connor examined them a minute longer before slowly dropping them there. "Don't cut yourself."

"I'll be sure not to."

The true meaning behind our words was more of: "Don't you dare be a little smart -ass with me; I won't tolerate it even if you are from the future." His eyes held the same message as I'd taken from his tone. My response held the definition: "I'll do whatever I damn well please, thank you very much.

We have a long 3-day trip ahead of us.


	3. Civilization Chapter 3

**Yup, so, It turns out I wanted to not look like a total idiot and somehow make up fashion, weapons, and such for the time period, so I decided to do some research. That explains why this is so **_**late.**_** I wanted to be as historically accurate as possible without making the story seem less… interesting? Ahhhh, whatever. Thank God-or if you're a different religion; Buddha, Allah, Gods, etc.- for Google.**

**Enjoy the new, improved, and hopefully way better than the others, Chapter 3!**

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"Alright, first thing's first, _no_ weapons until we buy you some clothes that will help you fit in. Also, I'm not rich. Don't buy the prettiest dr-"

"Do not. Say. The word. I refuse. To wear. Those vile. _Things._" I growled. Connor, with how he obviously thought of most women/girls/females, raised an eyebrow and cracked a small smile.

He replied, "Okay, then… don't ask for anything too expensive. Also, you may want to buy something else for the winter, it gets much colder."

"_YA DON'T SAY._" I sneered at him playfully, "I thought it rose to a thousand degrees!" I made gestures with my hands and had an incredulous look on my face."If I didn't know better I'd think you were me."

Step 1 Of today's plan to irritate Connor, make him snort. Step completed. Immediately after he did so, you _all_ know what happened. His entire expression said "WTF kind of noise did I just make!" Step 2, you ask?

"Say, Connor, did you hear that _pig_ just now?" If looks could kill, I'd be roasting above a volcano with robotic, un-meltable, mutant crocodile-gorillas that haven't been fed. For a year."Oh. OH! That was _you_? My God, you'll get the guards' attention for certain!"

Rolling his eyes at me and grabbing me roughly by the arm, he dragged me through the crowds. Okay, _what the heck. _I WAS JUST TEASING! OH! And Connor, before you rip that arm off, I'm not a suit-case, I'm a _human-being._ Just as I finally finished my inward ranting, Connor stopped and gently shoved me towards a tailor's. Did I mention he just got on my nerves? Pffft, assassins.

Examining the variety of clothing, I was thankful to find what looked like a vest (I was later explained to by you-know-who- that it was a waistcoat)of a pomegranate-type color, a rather simple shirt of, at least I think it was, cotton, a coat, somewhat similar to Connor's in that it came with a hood-though it was a dark brown, not white-, knee-high boots for riding, a pair of boring ankle length breeches, and a cloak. Connor would _not_ stop bugging me about the cloak.

"You need to keep your identity hidden just as much as I do." Or "You won't have the sun in your eyes." Excuse-maker.

Attempting to ignore the curious glances and perverted stares cast my way, my poker-face ability was tested to its breaking point. A certain assassin was highly amused by my earlier insult, it seems. But he soon pushed me into a small room in a broken down house we passed by.

As I got changed, I noticed the burn marks on the walls and ceiling. How did someone manage to burn a house down this early? Well… the houses _are_ made of wood. I decided the cloak would do for now, the coat was too warm for the season. Grabbing my 21st century clothes along with said coat and carrying them outside, I prodded Connor in the side with an elbow. He grabbed the future clothes and stuffed them into a satchel bag or whatever before handing it to me. Still wondering what to do with the coat I gently kicked him in the shin.

"What?" He muttered. I threw the coat in his face and snickered a little when e fumbled to get it off. He got it off after a few seconds and gave me _the look. _How is it he can give me a look usually only women can? Slinging my coat over his shoulder with an eye-roll, he began dragging me through the crowds again.

He came to a stop in front of a blacksmiths. _Gee, I wonder what we'll be doing here. _He gestured at a few secondary weapons and a selection of…_swords?_ Since when was I trusted with sharps objects any bigger than my pocket-knife by him? Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed him purchasing a second flintlock pistol, as well as ammo, throwing knives, and nodding quietly as a few other pieces of equipment hidden in a medium-small pouch were handed to him. Wonder what was going on with that…

Snapping back to reality, I began examining the smaller weapons first. They were all so _awesome. _Some of the selection had curved blades, others featured some serrated edges-which impressed me slightly with the time period- and still others had thin, sturdy, straight blades. After standing for a couple of moments and taking in the knives, daggers, and other weapons, I'd decided a simple dagger with a leather wrapped-hilt and barely curved edge would be good enough for now.

When I moved to the swords, some obnoxious thought slammed me in the head. _I can't hold practically any of these!_ My eyes roamed them based on their overall weight it seemed. And, I was correct. The majority refused to give in to my pathetic attempts of lifting them with brute strength. Finally, almost finished going through the arms, A short-bladed sword caught my attention. It was smaller than the rest, but had a similar sized hilt. Since when did the colonists and British use short-swords in this time period? No matter. I picked it up with a little difficulty and held it for a few seconds with both hands. Letting go with one hand, I struggled to keep it up and Connor rolled his eyes.

Before we left, he allowed me to receive a bow and quiver and paid for the entire list of equipment. Assisting me in strapping the weapons to a leather belt, he nodded a little.

"I'd like it if you could handle the sword a little easier, but we'll have to make due for now. And you _have _used a bow before? With arrows?" When he added the last part I just looked at him. Was he _serious?_

"No, I was told to use rocks for a bow, obviously why I could tell you to use arrows for a bow." He smiled a little and then, oh my, I wonder what he did.

He again dragged me along behind him through the throng of people. Joy. When we stopped suddenly, I ran into his back.

"Don't do that! I'm kind of-" He cut me short by nudging me with his elbow and discreetly pointing towards a group of red-coated men. _Why did I have to get stuck with an assassin? Why not just a normal, farming dude with a stuttering problem? That would have been fine by me_, I thought miserably. He tugged down the hood on my cloak and grabbed my hand. Um. Okay. Nothing weird or awkward about that when you're like in your twenties. I looked at him. He just smiled a little.

"So, where will we go then, Amelia, my beautiful daughter?" OHHHH. I see what you did there! I smiled sweetly up at him as he led me past the guards. I pretended to think about it then replied in a fake voice.

"Can we go ride horses? I love horses!" I gave a small squeal at the end of my sentence when the assassin tickled my neck. _Oh my god, what kind of sound did I just make? _The guards erupted into laughter at the sound and I blushed furiously. Oh, this is war Connor. _This. Is. War._ "Just make sure you don't get thrown off by that black and white one! You looked so funny when you landed in the water trough!"

"You've been thrown into a water trough? What a wimp!" When the guard resumed his comical cackling with the others, Connor glared flames at me. I smiled innocently back and started skipping a little. This forced him to walk faster and once we rounded the corner, he flicked me in the head. I watched as he smugly strutted a few paces ahead and then turned smirking and gesturing for me to go first.

"You were _asking _for that, you know." I murmured when I reached his side.

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By the time my companion and I reached the stables, we had taken detours five times because of the guards, argued over whether it was three in the afternoon or four in the afternoon, fallen off a building he'd dragged me up as usual, and settled the disagreement of what the difference between what "grey" and "gray" were. Yep, we got a lot of pointless stuff done.

"Do you want the gray one or the brown one?" He'd motioned towards a pair of smaller horses as he prepped a huge jet black one for the ride ahead. I pouted.

"Why do you get the black one?" He looked at me like I was an idiot.

"You wouldn't reach the stirrups on this one with your height." He practically flung me over to the brown and gray ones. I studied them with a frowny-face. Yes, that is now a term.

One was a chestnut color with white splashed on its underside and a patch of diamond-shaped tan on its muzzle topped by a mahogany mane. The other was the owner of a full gray color and a black mane.

Grabbing the former, I was relieved to see they both had saddles already. One nightmarish crisis averted another to come as I clambered on. And you know what? I was thrown off. Into a water trough.

"Talk about irony!" Connor managed to croak out between laughs. He stumbled over and offered a hand to help me out. Thanks, but I have a better idea, my dear adoptive father.

I grabbed his hand and got halfway up, but then fell back and dragged him in with me. My brilliant plan ended in me somehow sitting on his lap and him using the thing as a chair. Needless to say, it was damn hilarious. But I had to give one more thing a try to humiliate him.

"Santa!" He was still chuckling and then both of us burst into laughter and tears as I said it. I take back saying I wanted a farmer as a guardian in this place, Connor was like a freaking pot of gold when it came to jokes. And I intended to make the assassin seem slightly less… scary. At least while we were heading to Boston. Then I'll stop.

_Or will I?_


	4. Of Tea Parties and Bullets Chapter 4

_**Okay, I would first like to point out that I apologize for being inactive for so long, but that has come to an end! Also, if you haven't played Assassin's Creed 3 up to Sequence 7, I suggest you not read this chapter. At least until you've played it. Thank you all for being so patient with me! This chapter should be a little more interesting than the others, let me know what you think and reviewing is appreciated!**_

"Are we there yet?"

Connor sighed. "No."

"Bluh, bluh, then what're those buildings way over there?" I said. I indicated said buildings in the most obvious way possible. Pointing. Yeah, we were almost to Boston, and I was, of course, getting bored of seeing trees go by. I'm barely a teenager okay? I need excitement. And Connor was anything but excitement when traveling. Dude, come on, you're an assassin; you're supposed to kill people. Right?

Connor rolled his eyes and replied, "Just because we can see them doesn't mean we're close. Now would you stop asking 'are we there yet?' every five seconds?" Look out everybody, Connor is getting annoyed, back off before he starts talking more than 20 words a day. Because God _forbid _conversation be pleasant.

Slouching and letting out a melodramatic sigh, I made a motion for zipping my lips and throwing away the key. Which Connor, being from an age in which zippers had never been invented, had merely assumed meant "I'm going to be quiet now, okay?" The rest of the way was filled with me acting like an idiot and grumpy assassin faces. When we got to the gates I, couldn't help but look around at the mass of red-coated soldiers and disgruntled citizens. _Okay, so it's like, early-mid 1770's? That's when the Revolutionary War started. Did I miss the Boston Tea Party? Connor if you made me miss the Boston Tea Party I swear to god._

I heard a thump and glanced to see the classy Mr. Kenway had jumped off his horse and was sauntering his way down the street. Oh the joys of walking. I was surprised my feet didn't have blisters yet. Groaning and quite gracefully- read: I probably looked similar to a dying walrus- hopping off the chestnut horse and dragging my feet after the assassin, I began making funny faces at his back as he walked. Do you know how amusing it is to make fun of assassins when they have their backs turned? Pretty goddamned fun if you ask me. Until they turn around and THROW YOU OVER THEIR SHOULDER.

"WHAT, WHAT, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" I shouted at this insane man who now could drop me on my head. Into puddles of muddy water and… God knows what else. Oh, no, _do not want._

"Making sure you don't wander off."

"Oh, well, you know, the proper way to hold a woman isn't SLINGING HER OVER YOUR SHOUDLER LIKE A SACK OF POTATOES!" My outbursts brought the attention of several people who looked awfully confused. Dear God, will you please strike Connor down if this is stupid? … Okay so apparently this isn't stupid.

"Will you calm down? You're going to attract the whole city's attention if you keep up!"

"Maybe I wouldn't keep up if I _wasn't_ up! You know, just a thought so my innards aren't being painfully crammed into my spinal column. Oh, and maybe the lower half of my body wouldn't go numb? Hmmm… Make me complain more? Or put me down and conserve time and energy? _Hmmm… decisions, decisions._" Conny then proceeded to put me down and, prize to whomever guesses what he did next, began pulling me through the streets towards god knows where since I had never been to Boston. Really should have stowed away on my friend's trip up here. Oh wait, that's when indoor plumbing was invented and you didn't have people wearing coats like Connor's. I could do with these coats though, these people had some class.

Once we'd gone through probably god knows how many markets, alley-ways, across so many roofs-which I was fearing for my life because, really, how many 13-year olds do you know that go prancing across rooftops?-, and passing by a lot of red-coats armed with very deadly looking muskets, axes, and who knows what else, we came to a group of men. Ah, yes, people plotting against the red-coats no less. I stood by the classy Mr. Kenway and tried not to make myself look stupid. Who knows who these guys were?

"What happens now?" I heard Connor inquire.

A man dressed in grey with graying hairanswered him. "We wait for the signal."

Connor and I asked the same question at the same time. "What signal?

He looked as though he was about to ask who I was, but then some blessed soul interrupted him.

"This meeting can do nothing further to save the country." And with that, another man came out of the building. He was dressed in a dark blue coat, had dark brown hair, which he tied back, and was looking right at us.

He cast a glance at me, then Connor. No doubt he was curious as to why Connor had brought me here. I tried to think of an explanation, but it seemed my traveling companion had that covered."She's with me." Looking at Connor, I tried to ask him questions. You know, like what's going on, who are these people, what am I being dragged along with, but his stare told me not to.

"Very well. Good evening gentlemen-and young lady- shall we be off?" I am not a young lady; I am a young woman who will intimidate people one day with my stares because I am presently under the influence of a scary-ass assassin.

"No."

"What's the matter?"

"I have spent today drawn from one bit of madness to another with nothing to show for it. Before I go any further, I would like to know exactly what it is you intend." Congrats random dude I don't know! You've managed to get Connor to say more in one sentence than I can in a whole day!

"Of course. First, we make our way to Nathaniel Bradlee's house to fetch the rest of our little group." More people, oh joy. This should make my discomfort reach new peaks. I am an anti-social butterfly who just wants to eat and sleep and maybe walk a lot. I did _not_ ask to be dragged into one of the most important eras of American history and help with some random plan. Back to what this guy was saying."Then it's on to Griffin's Wharf, where we board the ships and dump the tea. Simple as that." Oh my god. Oh my god. OH MY GOD. I'm gonna help with the Boston Tea Party! Oh my god this is going to be so amazing and I'm about to explode from excitement! I-

"Simple seems a bit charitable." CONNOR. Do not ruin my dreams of participating in an important part of history! I just got them and now they're being crushed!

"Cheer up, Connor- for tonight we are all victors! The Sons of Liberty get to send England a message and you rob William Johnson of his financing. Your village will be saved." Pausing and looking at the man standing by watching the conversation-come to think of it, I and he shared that leisure- he continued. "I've an idea; why don't you lead the way? That should keep us out of any further trouble, am I right?" I would say a sarcastic comment, but this is Connor. I haven't seen him get in one fight since I've been here. Save the one that I barely escaped from being in.

As we walked I couldn't help but cast glances at the two new people. The younger of the two-I assume since he didn't have grey hair- spoke up once more. He seemed pleasant enough. "Connor, would you mind introducing us to your young associate?"

"Her name is Courtney." He looked as though he wanted to say something more-likely about how much of a smart ass I usually was-, but he didn't.

With an awkward, lopsided smile, I finally rose from the depths of silence and started speaking for myself. "Nice to meet you." I may be a sass-master, but I know what manners are. UNLIKE A CERTAIN SOMEONE ELSE WHO'S NAME STARTS WITH "CO". "And, if I may ask, who are you?"

He smiled and replied evenly. "Samuel Adams. But please, call me Sam." Oh. Should I tell him he's famous enough in the future that there's a beer company named after him or no? "And this is William Molineux. I'm rather surprised a man like Connor would bring you into all this." Well, obviously you must not know him like I do.

"Actually, I'm here by choice. Connor just doesn't have the heart to tell me to go away." I responded. Aw yes, embarrassing Connor around people who know him. Another thing of my check-list of time-traveling evil schemes done.

Chuckling, Samuel returned to walking alongside the other two men. To be honest, I couldn't help but be nervous. Would there be guards? What if Connor got hurt? What if _I _got hurt? Would I be too much of a liability? Oh god, now I'm getting nervous. I looked over my shoulder and tried to stay behind my dear assassin as much as possible. When we got to this "Griffin's Wharf" place, yet another man joined us. He wore a bloody apron and had some cloth wrapped around his head. A cleaver dangled from his waist.

"Damnit! More guards!" I heard Samuel complain. Perfect, I get to help by avoiding being killed by guards, correct?

William finally said something. Can't say not talking is a bad thing really."We need to turn the crowd's anger to our advantage."

"Say the word Connor and I will make it so!" Apparently chef-dude was French. _Sweet._ You know what that meant, right? Angry French dude, important historical figures, an assassin-who needs to stop being so passive all the time, man could learn a few lessons from me-, and a teenage girl who had barely any idea how to handle a weapon. I call throwing tea off the boats!

Connor gently pushed me towards Sam and William, who were hiding behind two barrels. Okay, what I'm about to do next is questionably probably the most idiotic thing I'll ever do. "I'm going with you, I barely know them!" He looked at me seriously and obviously was trying to convince me otherwise.

"You could get killed." Good point, but hey! There's my giant as all the universe pride in myself! So, I'm sorry, but I'm going through with this.

"Really? I hadn't guessed. Look, I can distract them! You come up behind them and kill them, why not get the Frenchmen to help? Simple!" He looked at me for a moment, attempting to plead with me. "My mind's made up, Conny-o-boy. We're in this together.' And with that, I marched towards the red-coats, looking death in the eye and mimicking their stiff posture. I heard muffled Connor swearing somewhere in the distance.

"Oi, lookit this'n. She's tryin ta be one o' us." One of them sneered out. Okay Courtney, don't piss yourself, for the love of god, just _don't._

Another joined in. "Look girly, women are supposed to be in the kitchen, raising children, cleaning. Feminine stuff."

Oh I know the answer to this one. "How the hell is cooking feminine? It's fucking fire and fucking knives and fucking dead stuff." Thank you tumblr for not being mainly made up of sexist individuals. They looked at me now. Yay for foul language.

"You've got a pretty dirty mouth on ya, girl." The one next to him snickered.

"Maybe we should clean it out with something a little less enjoyable than soap." Did he- oh no. _I need an adult._

"Woah, calm down now, I've still got a little bit of innocence left and I'd like it to stay that way." I heard a couple splashes but brushed them off for the time being since, well, I have a bigger problem right now. Taking a couple steps back, they advanced with each. I was about to yell for help when one of them was pushed to the side with a sudden amount of blood coming out of the back of his neck. Ew. The other turned but was too slow. A cleaver sliced through his wind-pipe and he joined the other on the ground. Okay, I can stand blood, but I'm a murder witness now. I would have made a dying moose noise if not for the fact I was kind of in a trance. At least I'd gone hunting with my dad those few times. The thought made something-most people would call it the heart- ache. I missed home.

"Hey, are you alright?" I looked up at my savior- I have way too many at this point- and nodded. He started walking with Connor to the planks leading up to the boat. Connor glanced at me. I, not knowing what else to do and coming close to thoroughly flipping the hell out, followed them. Once we reached the second boat, Connor pushed me towards the netting and told me to hide.

"Okay, but if anything happens, I have a short sword and really don't know how to use it." He shook his head at my statement and followed the chef down. They promptly began attacking the guards. Which I turned away from. Watching horror movies is one thing. Seeing people get killed in real life is entirely different. I tried not to, but I couldn't help but steal a glance at the action every now and again. I'd forgotten how brutal Connor could be. What would happen if we got split up and I was alone out here, in a place I don't know, around people who could turn me in for plotting homicide. I could taste that nasty bile-like substance trying to work its way up my throat. Don't puke. Don't puke. Too late. I leaned over the railing and hoped no one was going to try to drink tea from the harbor any time soon.

Feeling a hand on my shoulder I looked around to see cleaver-dude looking at me sympathetically. "Take your time, fille, I'm Stephane by the way." I worked up a weak smile.

"Courtney." I think my stomach wanted to heave up a little more, but I got my act together a little more. I'm a kid okay? Give me a break. I looked at Connor who'd boarded the ship with yet another man. "Who-"

"Paul Revere." Life, stop throwing famous people at me. You're making me feel pathetic. I began helping Mr. Revere throw boxes of tea off the ship. They were kind of heavy, and I was left a little weak after my little gift to the waters off the coast of Boston, but I was going to have to deal with it. I heard some shouting by the time I'd thrown about five off, and whipped around to see blurs of red coming towards us through an angry crowd. I got out the short sword I'd barely even used, and stood by Paul. I'm not that strong a swimmer, and there'd no doubt be guard coming from the other direction as well anyways. I chanced a look and saw Stephane, Connor, and William fighting off a few who had boarded their vessel. Upon hearing footsteps on wood, I turned back around and tried to keep myself from looking absolutely terrified. I probably failed horribly.

The four men who stood before us were armed. One with an axe and three with muskets. Great. Guns or axes Courtney? Let's try guns first. Holding my own weapon in the form Connor had taught me in the past two days-here I could still strike, but my body and head were protected somewhat- I looked at the one advancing towards me. He jabbed at me with the sharp bayonet and I ducked down, slashed at his abdomen and rolled behind him, hoping not to impale myself on my own sword. Getting up I saw him clutching at his center, slouching down, and prepared to do something I never thought I would have to. I raised the sword, closed my eyes, and brought it down on his neck. I felt something warm and wet hit me and snapped my eyes open. Looking at him, the gash I'd left in his neck, I felt another wave of nausea hit me. I'm a killer. I am legit, full on, 100%, murderer.

Looking up I saw that there were more coming. Okay, so I do have a few advantages. I'm smaller, faster, and I have nothing to regret at this point forward. The next few moments were filled with me barely avoiding getting hit a few times and getting pretty battered up by the hits they did land. Of course, staying lower to the ground helped, but it also put a lot of strain on my back and didn't help me to see what was going on. I had a newfound respect for Connor. I looked at the man in front of me, and held back panic. I struck at him, missing just barely. In a flash, I heard a deafening sort of sound and fell back. The next thing I felt was searing pain in my left shoulder. I writhed on the ground a few moments and stared up at the soldier. In a flash of white he was down and Connor was helping me towards the beam that supported the mast of the ship. Tears fell out of my eyes and I couldn't have cared less.

I barely noticed the fight going on and missed the cheers that rose when Connor dropped the tea in the harbor. I had my eyes shut tight against the pain and was letting out short sobs. When he came back, Connor picked me up bridal style and carried me somewhere. He and someone else- Stephane? Samuel?- were talking in urgent, hushed voices. I was really cold, and my god _the pain._ I might have a relatively high pain tolerance, but this was a bullet for Christ's sake! I felt a rush of warm air and I was set down on something wooden. I felt someone pry away the clothing on my left shoulder. I could feel people holding my arms and legs. I heard Connor talking to me and the next thing I felt, was something touching the hole in my flesh. I tried to bite back the scream, but couldn't. I felt something get dislodged from the wound-the bullet, though at the time I probably was thinking Satan himself was picking at the injury- and air hit it. And let me tell you something: you thinking having peroxide poured on a scrape is hard? Try having water poured into a wound. Not pleasant.

Fighting to keep my consciousness, I lost as black dots clouded my vision.

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I groaned and tried to roll over, immediately stopping due to the sudden pain. _What the hell?_ I struggled to sit up and rubbed my eyes. I was in an old-fashioned looking room. I had bandages bound around my shoulder and chest and my stomach was completely out of wack. What did I even-

Oh. Memories of the previous night came flooding back and I took a painstakingly long time to get out of bed, pull a shirt and shoes on and stiffly work my way over to the door. Pushing it open, the heat and noise that greeted me was entirely unexpected. Looking around I spotted some familiar faces at a table and worked my way downstairs and over to them. Connor, upon seeing me, formed an unreadable expression. I sat next to him and the Frenchmen. Stephane nodded to me and I smiled.

"What were you thinking last night? I thought I told you to stay hidden!" I looked everywhere except for Connor. How do you say "Well, I was stupid and wasn't thinking correctly, I apologize for my actions" to someone who'd saved your life, and you'd probably just nearly given a heart attack? Sorry doesn't cut this kind of stuff. I looked in his direction, still refusing to meet his gaze.

"I don't know." That's the best I can come up with? Jeeze, that experience took a lot more out of me than I originally thought. I looked down at the table and waited.

"Do you have _any _idea what could have happened if you'd taken that bullet just a few inches lower? You'd be _dead_, Courtney. If Stephane hadn't known of the lady who runs this inn, you'd have died anyways." That settles it, I just came inches away from death and lived-I've beat a few people in the world with this. But seriously, how am I supposed to handle this? I'm a kid, I wanted to help. I couldn't tell that this was going to happen. But Connor already knew this. Otherwise, he wouldn't be chastising me the way he is. I looked up at him, finally making eye contact. I couldn't come up with anything to say. For once in my life, I was tongue-tied. Connor's expression softened and he pulled me into an embrace, trying to mind the shot I'd taken.

"I was worried." I almost missed the words, but they meant a lot. He, an assassin, someone who could have just as easily ended my life as he had saved it, someone who could have left me out in the wilderness to die, had worried about me. And we didn't even know each other very well. I remembered all the times I'd teased and complained, and realized this entire time I had been a total bitch to him. I hugged him back and felt glad to have met such a great guy.

"Oh and, uh Connor?"

"Yes?"

"When do I get to eat?"


	5. Training Again Chapter 5

_**Alright, so I'm planning to keep updating at least one chapter every weekend. Also, I want to wish everyone happy holidays! I'd do a "Christmassy" chapter, but after considering the fact it's a Christian holiday, it conflicts with the time-line, and the celebrations for the time period are much different than in the 21**__**st**__** century, it seems way too out of place for the fact Connor obviously is not a Christian. At least not in the course of the game.**_

Rolling over to escape the sunlight pouring through the windows, I did, once again, what I did every morning. I fell off the couch. Scrambling around for a moment and ending up paining my shoulder more than need be, I disentangled myself from the thin blanket I'd curled up in. I walked downstairs with a few yawns and stretches and ventured into the kitchen to find Achilles there. I inwardly sighed. Don't get me wrong, I don't really have anything against him. It's just kinda difficult to get along with him. But I had cut back on the whole smartass remarks thing the past four months to stay on some good ground with him. I _was_ living with the guy and Connor after all.

"You gonna stand there and gawk or help me?" he said.

"Yeah, um…" I looked down at the food he was slicing and mentally cursed myself for not helping my mom cook more often. Needless to say, I lived off mainly TV dinners and ramen when she or dad didn't cook. Oh how I wish the Industrial Revolution would take place sooner than it's supposed to. "So, what do I do?"

"I need you to set these pieces in there , turn them over every so often."Nodding, I took the freshly cut slabs of what I assumed was either venison or elk and watched them slowly cook in the small fireplace. Taking a poker (heck if I knew what it was called, or would bother to learn) from one of the few hooks located scenic brick wall, I clumsily turned them and looked back to see what the old man was doing. I saw him slicing pieces of corn-bread off one of the two loafs he must have cooked. I didn't see any French maids or butlers running around here after all. After a while of watching grease sizzle, I looked to Achilles.

"I think they're done." I commented. "But you know, I could always be completely wrong." He came over and, after taking the poker thing-ma-jig from my hands, prodded each piece a few seconds. He nodded and took one of the simple plates from the table. Handing it to me, he'd placed each of them on said ceramic within a few moments.

"Go set them on the table, and call down Connor. That boy would oversleep everyday if I let him." He directed from over his shoulder. Rolling my eyes, I did as he asked. I saw the fruits and corn-bread on the table and had to restrain myself from simply plucking some from the table. _Goodbye, my love .Though I promise that I shall return for you, soon_, I thought as I trudged up the staircase to wake Rhad-Rhat-Rat- whatever he's Rat today. Coming in through the open doorway, I saw him sprawled on the floor*. Rat had a problem with tossing and turning while he slept. I nudged him with my foot.

"Yo, Rat-boy. Get your lazy butt up." He muttered something and shifted into yet another position in which he could be compared to a pretzel. Were those invented yet? I think I read something about Germans inventing them somewhere. I nudged him again, this time almost kicking him. "I said get moving. I'll eat your breakfast if you don't want it." The 17 years old -with how he looks, I'd mistaken him for being at least eight years older- finally glared up at me. Yeah, Connor wasn't exactly a morning person; especially when his meals are being threatened.

"Oh, of course, and then I'll eat your dinner." He replied with a sort of slur.

"There's still supper."

"I'll eat that too. Girls your age are supposed to be _way_ skinnier anyways. I'm doing you a favor."

"You touch my food, I will ruin your life."

"Oh yes, with criticism and your snarky comments no doubt." Over the short conversation, if you could call it that, he'd gotten up and I now had to tilt my head back to look him in the eye. I gave him a cheeky smile.

"Oh, you know I'm a ray of sun in your life." I chimed as he walked past me.

He snorted. "More like a cloud to block out the sun." I placed a hand on my chest and gasped dramatically.

"Your words, they wound me! They wound my heart!" I considered letting myself fake-faint, but decided not to. In my experience, wooden floors were not comfortable to fall on.

"If you're going to continue traveling with me, at all, we'll have to start training you again soon." He stated. So soon? It had only been four months. I was getting used to being lazy again. Besides, I wasn't going out _there _in April. I'd be sneezing and have the itchiest eyes this not-so-new land had ever seen.

"But my shoulder is still healing." I whined. And there my voice rose an octave. Good job at being mature Courtney!

"I have seen your shoulder. It may be sore, but the wound has closed. All that's left is a scar." He countered. Why do people in this time talk with such perfect grammar? Not that I mind, it's better than deciphering what someone just said because the talk like gizoogle**.

"But… it hurts."

Sighing, Connor turned to look at me. "Courtney, either you're going to start training again, or you'll be stuck here as a maid short of nothing-save the name." I looked around and thought. On one hand, it would be putting my life in jeopardy and pretty much being an assassin recruit. The other, I'd be stuck as a maid and probably eventually grow to be an old woman here while the possibility of returning home was out there waiting for me to find it. As dangerous as it was, I had to at least try to get back home. My family and friends were probably worried sick. Wait, what if I'd screwed up something in the timeline? What if I've prevented Abraham Lincoln from ever being born? What if _I'm _never born? Ugh time-line complications are so… complicated to think about.

"Alright. I get it. Just… when do we start?" I dreaded the inevitable bruises and sore muscles that were ahead. Connor would obviously go easy on me, but he would push me to my breaking point, I could tell.

"Today."

I sat down and distracted myself with the wonderful diversion of food.

WwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWw WwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWw WwWwWwWwWwWw

I loaded yet another cartridge into the barrel of the pistol. I hated these things. Yes, they were dangerous, more deadly, and easier to aim than bows, but they were a pain to reload. Connor stood by me and watched with agonizing criticism as I did so.

"If you're that slow, you'll be an easy target. For anyone." He watched as I aimed it once more at the practice dummy. I pulled back on the trigger and was momentarily deafened by the bang. I remembered my dad having a black powder gun that I hated shooting. It wasn't loud, and there was barely any kick due to the weight. I did have to sit or crouch with it, however. But it hadn't been nearly as infuriating as this pistol was. The sound, the kick- and don't even get me started on the muskets. They took even longer to reload, they were heavier, kicked more, and they were difficult to handle. I hated the bayonets at the ends, they weighted it down even more and caused me to want to stomp it on the ground. And I likely would have if I lacked the common sense of "it's a gun, it's dangerous even when not loaded, it has a goddamned over-sized knife on the end." Small things that should be give-aways as to why not.

Looking at my "mentor" for a moment I waited for whatever feed-back he was about to give.

"Your aim is terrible. You keep flinching at the last second, why?"

"I am not flinching! These things are just impossible to aim." I muttered. Connor rolled his eyes and proceeded to take out his gun, aim, and fire at the dummy, hitting it right in the head. All in one smooth movement. He raised an eyebrow.

"You were saying?"

"Can't we just go to bows and darts, maybe hand-to-hand combat- I'll even go for a little practice with the sword! I just do not like these guns." I held out the firearm for him to take. Looking at me, he began talking again.

"And what about when your sword is meters away and you can't reach it?"

I considered the event. "I use the knife."

"Your knife is missing."

"I get far enough away and shoot arrows at them." I replied exasperated.

"And when you run out of arrows?"

"I fight them with my bare hands."

"Yet they still have muskets, axes, swords, and pistols." He said it like I was a small child. Wow, rude.

"I use a smoke-bomb, get my sword, and get out of there."

"You used your smoke bombs earlier, when you were escaping the guard."

"Okay is this role-playing training or actual fighting training?"

Shaking his head, Connor turned and led me to the patch of dirt he'd laid the weapons down on. "Do you really think it's all about physical training? If you can't tell what's going on around you, you are as good as dead in a real fight. You need to be able to react without a moment's hesitation; you need to use your strengths, not just techniques a book could tell you. You have to be able to improvise somehow." I mocked him the entire time. As wise as his words were, I didn't need a lesson in the psychology of fighting.

"If you aren't in shape, you can't do anything. You're virtually useless. You can't actually _do_ what you're supposed to." I argued. Come on, obviously if you can't lift your weapon, you can't defend yourself or anything. Not that Connor would actually listen to me.

"You have a lot to learn." A faint frown tugged at his lips. He picked up a short sword and a normal-looking one. The assassin handed the short sword to me and waited for me to get ready. Attempting to recall the techniques he'd taught me those four months ago, I found only the most basic of information. Wide stance, protect your center. I nodded to him and he began slowly prowling closer in that way that made you feel like a deer caught in headlights. I mimicked his actions and tried to predict when he would strike. We went on like this for a bit, before I got tired of just circling. Rushing forward, I struck at him. What I hadn't expected, was him not only dodging the move, but countering it. Bringing my own sword down to the ground, he slid towards me and elbowed me in the gut. I stumbled backward, scarcely keeping hold of the weapon in my hands and regaining my composure. Once I had it, I looked to see him, yet again, waiting.

Now, I went for a slash at his legs, hoping dearly that he wouldn't kick me in the face. He caught the blow and the blade glanced off his own with a hiss of metal, sending a ringing through my arms. I swung wildly at him again. Parrying it, he stepped closer and pulled me into a headlock. Being me, I hissed a few colorful words and struggled for a second. Finally going limp, I let out a snort.

"Hmmm, _someone's_ gotten rusty, haven't they?" Connor teased.

Turning my head enough to make eye contact, I grinned. "And _someone's_ gotten a little cocky, haven't they?" Before I could stop myself even, I'd taken the ever-present tomahawk from his belt and held it to his neck. Wow I would be pathetic in a "clean" fight. Connor sighed.

"Your little tricks will only get you so far." He commented dryly as he let go. I gave him his beloved assassin axe back. "And by the way…"

I looked at him as we headed back to the shooting range.

"I'm pretty sure that most of the tricks you have, are made up by quick-thinking. Something that isn't _physical training_." He was taunting me now, I could tell. I stuck my tongue out at him and glared. He shrugged off my immature behavior and made me start shooting and reloading the pistol. Again. Oh, joy.

_***It's a personal opinion that Connor would toss and turn at night and likely be a very light sleeper. I imagine it would be worse in large cities like Boston and New York where there are many more people about.**_

_**** is a website, sponsored by google, that basically translates everything to sound ghetto. **_

_**Reviews aren't necessary, but they're appreciated, especially if you give me some constructive criticism! **_


	6. Problems and Thoughts Chapter 6

_**And chapter 6 is here! I had a bunch of ideas, but ultimately I narrowed it down to this one. Also, there is a poll up on my profile about how the story should be written from here on out. Please if this is on your favorites or you follow it, give me some feedback. It'll really help me out. Not that I'll stop going on with the chapter a week thing, they'll probably just be a little less of what you guys might prefer to happen.**_

I stood tapping my foot impatiently as I leaned against the wall. I looked towards my left wrist only to remember that watches wouldn't be invented until a later date. And I loathed having to reach in my pocket to view the small, nearly impossible to read one. God, this little analog could get lost so easily, but I wouldn't do that on purpose. Connor had paid a bit of money to get this after all. Certainly not as much as a dinosaur like this could get in my time, but still enough to be valuable. He was working on teaching me how to use it and the sun as a compass. Didn't see how that could possibly be a good way of finding your location, but who am I to criticize? I can't use a compass in my time anyways. Anyways, I'm getting side-tracked.

It was three fifty-seven. It was the tenth sweltering day of July and I was waiting outside Samuel Adams' study in the heavy cotton clothing of this era after having traveled from Monmouth to bring him a letter. I'd had to avoid guards and haul ass out of some circumstances with musket fire at my heels. The past three weeks had been the same; running "important" letters to contacts of the Brotherhood anywhere from one to four days a week and the rest spent training with Connor. Dodging death and being a mailwoman, what a lovely way to spend your fourteenth birthday! God, why can't someone invent air conditioning already?

Hearing footsteps from inside the room, I straightened up. I actually liked Sam and his… maid-I guess- Surry. They didn't have lamp posts shoved up their back like Connor and Achilles seemed to these days at the very least. Ha, imagine Connor getting stuck on a pole one day when he was free-running. Sad, but funny. Bonus points if he's stuck upside down. The door opened and I snapped back to a reality without assassins being stuck in semi-high places with no way down. Surry appeared and smiled at me. "Mr. Adams is ready to see you now. He just had to finish some paperwork." I nodded to her and walked in trying to hide my displeasure at having been kept waiting for five minutes. God, what did he think I was? Patient? Ha, what's this patience you speak of?

"Ah, Courtney. Good afternoon. How can I help you today?" He said.

"Well I could use some water and maybe an apple or something, but otherwise I have this for you." I took the letter from the satchel I'd taken to wearing lately. After getting his hands on it, Sam tore open the envelope and looked over the neat cursive on the page. Hell, I can't write neatly in print, thank god no one seemed to mind much. And that most people of importance to the Assassins were literate.

As he read, his brow furrowed. Oh God, what is it? Did someone get a bad case of common cold? I stared at him and waited for the news.

He sighed. "It seems William Johnson has the funding to negotiate with the natives after all."

"Excuse me?"

"He's going to be discussing the terms with Connor's people tomorrow. There's no way we could reach him in time. He'll have to find this out on his own."

I almost shouted my next words. "Do you have any idea how mad he's going to be if we _don't_? Imagine the wrath of a million avenging angels sweeping down on us from above! That's how bad it will be!" He looked a little amused at my description of Connor's anger. Well, he sure didn't like it when I dumped water on him that one time. Yeah, I got stable duty for a solid week after that. Good times…

Sam waved it away. "He needs to do some things on his own, Courtney. How else will he learn if he's not given the opportunity?" Wait, but Con is a full-fledged Assassin, right? So why would he need to learn stuff? I raised an eyebrow in an unspoken question. He humored me as usual. "Connor may have a title, but he still has much to learn from experience. You do as well."

I sighed. "Do you have anything I should be running to another one of those drunkards?" A lot of people involved with the Brotherhood had a tendency to get drunk in between major battles and such. Go Americans! Not that things are too well for anyone in the future.

"Not this time. You're welcome to stay in the guest bedroom for the time-being. But you really should explore Boston a bit- just don't get lost." He added the last part as an afterthought. I smiled, striding out of the room to see Surry walking to the door with a basket. I jogged to catch up with the older woman as she opened it. A blast of heat hit my face.

"Whatcha doing?"

She shrugged. "Just need to get a few things for supper later. You're welcome to join if you've the time."

"It would be my pleasure, madam!" I took a great, theatrical bow and she laughed. I straightened up once more and walked alongside her to the market. The place was packed on any given day. The view of the water and ships docked in the harbor was a nice relief from the streets crowded with wagons, people, animals, and stalls. I'd been curious as to what it was like to sail, especially after seeing the _Aquila_, but I wasn't big on ships. Just the idea of all that water and if one thing goes wrong, then bam! You're stuck in the water with nowhere to go. You just wait out there until someone finds you-which has very slim chances- you drown, or some marine animal comes and tears you apart- like a shark or something. Besides that, I'd always been a poor swimmer. I'd grown up land-locked so I never really had a reason to learn. Other than living near a river. But who goes swimming in a river? And I'd come near drowning a couple of times, and it seemed like the worst fate ever. You were deprived of your senses even before you died and it just seemed so utterly terrifying. It was worse because I loved being in and around water. Something I love is what I fear most. How ironic.

"Courtney, where do you come from?" I jerked my head around to where she was purchasing fruit.

"Um… nowhere special, why?" What am I supposed to say, I come from America but it's so far west that you all probably haven't discovered it yet? Yeah, that won't raise suspicion.

"Well, you've got fair skin and freckles. But you sure don't act like you were raised in England or America; not with how you act most of the time."

"Well, I'm not fully English if that's what you're asking…" I muttered quietly. Thank God she wasn't questioning me on the place I was born exactly. That would be a downright impossible question to answer without making myself look like a lunatic.

She pursed her lips. "Then what are you?"

"I'm part French, German, Dutch, Cherokee, and English." I paused. "Nothing too special."

"And here I thought Connor had mixed blood." She murmured. "Don't let too many people know your bloodline, girl, they might not think well of someone with so many different ethnicities in their blood." I wondered what she meant by that. No one really thought much of bloodline in the 21st century. It was more skin color and visible traits. I guess I could just say I was like English and French or something. That wouldn't cause too big a deal, right? But then again things have- or will change a lot since then- I mean now. Stupid time shenanigans going around and messing up my tenses.

After we finished our shopping, I said goodbye to them all. Yeah, nice dinner, bed, all that. But I just couldn't sleep all that well knowing about the whole shebang going down tomorrow. Chances are, either Johnson is going to die, or a lot of problems are going to arise; maybe both. I yawned as I walked through the streets. I still wasn't very good at free-running, and didn't want to take my chances falling down on some poor old man's head. He'd probably be my grandfather or something and I'd vanish from existence. Again, time shenanigans are messing me up. I walked towards a pile of hay. Really Courtney? You're ditching a nice, warm, comfortable bed for a pile of hay that likely has ticks and lice and who knows what else in it? God even I think I'm an idiot sometimes. Of course, my ego prevented me from going back to Sam and staying. One of these days this whole self-pride thing is going to kill me.

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I woke up with a cramp in my back and a bad mood. Note to self, hay is not as comfortable as the games make it seem. It's prickly and leaves you feeling itchy and in need of a bath. I stumbled out to find that barely anyone was out. Those who were seemed to drowsy to notice me. I walked to where two horses were tied to a post, and mounted one. Why didn't people here ever unsaddle their horses? Was getting in trouble seriously that big an issue? Those poor equines, always having to have saddles on. About time to get back to Homestead, not like I could do much to help out Connor anyways. As I rode into the Frontier, I couldn't help but think.

Why was I here? All I knew was one minute I had air conditioning, refrigerators, microwaves, sinks, television, computer, and all of that stuff we take for granted, and next I'm in the middle of an emerging war. How did this happen? Was I supposed to do something here or what? Why couldn't this wait until the game had come out and I'd played it at the very least? I had too many questions and no answers. If this ends up like one of those clichés where every time I answer one question, fifty more pop up, I'm going to hurt someone. Those are just annoying. Then something struck me. I'd been walking in a forest, and then I fell. What if I was in a coma? Or… _dead_? I don't even know what's real and fake anymore, my very existence I now questioned as the sun rose on the mountainous terrain.

As the off-white horse I commanded trotted down the dirt road, a single, terrifying idea hit me like a brick. _What if I'm stuck here?_ Were my friends and family worried? Dear God I'd probably given my mother a heart-attack, literally. And if I was in a coma, how much were they paying for life support or whatever? I could be causing so many problems and never even have any clue to them. Shit, I had no idea what to think anymore. The full weight of my situation had finally caught up with me now that I had nothing to do. I was in a world I didn't belong, meeting people I shouldn't, doing things I wasn't meant to, probably changing the course of history without meaning to, maybe I was preventing people like Abraham Lincoln from being born. I shouldn't be here.

_This shouldn't be happening._

**_I'm not really happy with this chapter. It turned out sounding more like a filler than anything._**


	7. Arguments and New Friends Chapter 7

I sat with my back against the railing on the main deck and scribbled on a self-constructed sketchbook with a pencil. Yeah, apparently they were invented in the 16th century. At the moment, I was on the _Aquila_ because Connor had decided we'd be taking a very short trip. To the goddamn Bahamas! What were we going to do? Bask in the sunshine and frolic as we kill Templars? Oh, never mind, that's right. We were looking for stupid outfit or something that an old man-who was missing a leg and sat drinking near the dock- had so kindly told Con about and thus gotten me sent on an adventure. I'm fourteen years old and I've already killed, almost been killed, time traveled, participated in a revolt against Britain, and met important historical figures. And besides that, we have cannons on the ship. Oh, not like that implies we could possibly get in an all out sea-war and sink into the depths of the Atlantic Ocean or something. I got up from my spot, and headed to the wheel where Kenway and Faulkner discussed…shippy…stuff.

"This is a waste of time, Connor; we shouldn't be listening to that old coot anyways!" Mr. Faulkner growled.

"We've nothing else to do at the moment." Tan-boy glanced at me. "Besides, Courtney needs to get her… "sea legs."" Yes, please, do continue talking about me as though I were not present. What a fine way to treat a lady- oh that's right I don't really give a shit about manners when I'm on a ship with sailors.

I cleared my throat. "So when are we going to reach land? I'm getting tired of this sea-fare food or whatever. Why don't we have like, pastries and stuff?"

"Because it doesn't keep, lass." Well, at least you don't patronize me like _someone _does. Cough_Connor_cough.

Conny rolled his eyes. "She knows that, she's just bothering us." I glared at him. So suddenly you get some fancy clothes and a ship and all of a sudden I can't talk to you? Two can play that game, my dear stuck up assassin.

"Whatever you say. Oh, and Con? Stop being such a brat."

He snapped his head towards me. I grinned. I shrugged and snatched his fancy schmancy hat off his head and sprinted towards the other end of the vessel. I heard Faulkner laughing at our shenanigans. Ah, yes, that's more like it. An angry assassin and me fleeing. Just like it has been the past year. I ducked under ropes and dodged the crew on the way. Glancing back, I was met with the sight of…

Nothing. Where was- "Oomph!" I fell on my ass after running into something. Or rather someone. Said person tapped their foot impatiently. Giving him a sheepish smile, I scrambled up as Con grabbed for me and escaped below deck. I glanced around after slamming the grate down. My gaze caught a pile of very comfy looking canvases, wool, silk, and other such materials. Wonder why we had them, but whatever, I'm game. I collapsed into the pile and covered myself up with the various fabrics, keeping a small crack in which to peek out of. If Sir Grumps a Lot wanted his hat back, he'd have to find it. After an agonizingly long few seconds, the hatless captain himself romped down the stairs and began his quest for a very stylish hat and a very troublesome teenager.

I held back laughter as he muttered to himself in Mohawk; no doubt it was something very… colorful. My breath caught as he stopped in front of my little nest. He turned around. Oh thank God, I thought he was gonna do something stupid like- suddenly my train of thought halted. For now there was, for the millionth time, an assassin using me as a chair. I swear to the god of chocolate and coffee, _I shall have my revenge. _I flailed as much as I could, feeling like Magikarp in a Pokémon battle. God I am 100% useless.

"Mind giving back my hat?" he chuckled.

I looked up at him. "Connor. Fucking. Kenway. Get. Your ass. Offa. Me." Con, oh Con, do not smile, I will unleash a wave of foul language upon your Native American ears that will make any given sailor on this boat cringe. And you smile. You snarky sonuva-

"Princesses really shouldn't swear, now should they?" He smirked down at me. Connor, one of these days I will hurt you. And I won't even be sorry. He reached to take his hat and I did the only reasonable thing. I threw it in a random direction. I heard him sigh. "Really? You are truly insufferable."

"Look who's talking." I retorted. He _finally _got off of my back and strutted towards the staircase after collecting his hat. I stood up and dusted myself off. Some people could just really get on my nerves. Connor was one of them.

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The situations I get myself into, are the most unreasonable ones in the universe. I peeked over the edge of the bird's nest of the ship, only to immediately regret doing so. I could stand being on buildings pretty high up, but this is a ship. As in a sea-going vessel that floats on water and is constantly moving and was less steady than buildings. How was I going to get down?

Whatever, I could always sit here and wait for someone to find me. Yeah, I could wait. Patience might not be my strong suit, but hey, how hard could it be? I reclined back against the mast ad closed my eyes with a smile. _A kindergartener could do this!_ I thought. I jumped when I heard a bell down below. Yet again, I risked a look over the side. It was lunch time and everyone was going to get food but me! How is that fair? Well, actually, they called it dinner in these times, and "dinner" as I know it was called supper. I started yelling down at some of the crew.

"Hey! Up here! Come on you dumbasses, help me down! Guys!" My cries went unheard in the wind and I had accomplished nothing other than wasting my breath. Yeah, there were some people I didn't exactly like at the moment, to say the least. And where was Connor when you needed him? Ugh, he's there to pester me but-

"Um, I don't think you're supposed to be up here, miss." I looked directly below and saw a grey-eyed boy about thirteen years old climbing on the netting. Funny, I don't recall seeing him before.

"Oh, well, I wanted to get a nice view of the ocean and all, heh, and well- funny story actually! I got stuck up here!" I tried to think of an excuse, the captain himself _had _told me not to come up here.

He gave me a lopsided smile. "Need some help down, then?" he chirped happily. Oh my god, yes, please, thank you. You are a wonderful human being and I would give you an award but I can't. I nodded slightly embarrassed at the fact I was admitting I needed help. Ah, yes, there's my ego; I was wondering where that went. He climbed up a little more until his elbows were resting on the side of the bird's nest. "Come on, just climb down a little at a time. I'll be right there to steady you." Okay, true fact: this guy is _the_ most polite person my age I have ever met. Carefully so as to not plummet down, get caught on some rope, and twist my ankle or something, I climbed over the edge and swung my legs for a moment to look for the netting. When I found it, I glanced over at blond boy. For the next few minutes, he helped me get down off the terrifyingly high ropes and on the wooden gun deck.

"Um, thanks…?" I looked up at him waiting for his name. Now that we were on semi-solid ground, I could see I was actually a couple inches taller than him. Kid must've not hit his growth spurt yet, poor guy.

"My real name is Gregory, but most of my friends call me Greg. And you're Courtney, right?"

I couldn't help but stare for a second. "You know my name?"

He laughed and beamed at me. "Who on the _Aquila_ wouldn't? You're the captain's apprentice! He would talk highly back on the dock. Kept going on about how you were 'different' from everyone else; had a bad attitude too. I guess he was sort of right, you're not anything like my sisters-"

"Oi! Greg! Get over here and stop bothering the girl, we have work to do and it's not our shift to eat!" Wow, everyone is getting interrupted recently. I feel your pain Blondie, I feel your pain.

"Y-Yes sir!" He jogged towards the front of the ship, whatever it was called, and started working on… shippy stuff. I have got to stop saying that. I

I sauntered up to where Connor now stood alone and mimicked his indifferent expression as he watched the crew go about their work. Faulkner had taken over steering. Thank God, Connor was definitely better at steering the _Aquila_, or any ship, than I would be at the moment, but- well let's just say that whenever we came to a rocky area, my stomach would lurch with the ship. Not fun when you hadn't grown up on or around boats, and I'd only gotten over my sea-sickness two days in. I crossed my arms lazily as I stood next to him. "So."

"So."

"I'm your apprentice."

"Technically." He yawned.

"Funny how I never heard about that."  
"You travel with me and I train you."  
"I didn't know you thought I had a bad attitude."

"Maybe because if I told you, you'd become more ill-mannered than you already are."  
I glared at him. "Yes, because you're _never _"ill-mannered!""

He snorted. "Less so than a brat like you."

"_Excuse you!_"

"Excuse me? _I'm_ not mocking _your_ every move!"

"At least I'm not acting like a jerk!"

"Why don't you start wearing dresses, you are a girl after all, _princess._"

"Sorry, that's more your thing, your royal highness. You love wearing dresses."

"Like you have room to speak, marching around in boy clothes, acting like you know everything."

"I know more than you!" I hissed in the heat of the argument. That was practically all we did that could be considered proper conversation, not surprising since he was constantly telling me what to do.

"Really?" he said lowly. "Well, I know a _lot_ more about you than you do." I glanced at him, confused and insulted. "You're just a girl who got tied up in something bigger than yourself. You're spoiled and you act so sure of yourself even though you're really just an insecure, shallow, little brat." I looked towards the water.

"Whatever." I brushed past him and walked away. _That was a horrible conversation._ I sat with my legs pulled close as I looked at the water. The sun had apparently set while I and that pain in the ass were talking. God, he was such a jerk sometimes. I heard someone coming near me. "Go away, Connor."

"Oh, did you two get in an argument?" I looked up, stunned for a moment, to see Greg. Well, at least he wasn't going to be as rude as _certain other individuals._ I nodded as he plopped down next to me. "What about?"

"Nothing." I shrugged. He studied me for a moment then just smiled his goofy smile.

"Well, if you want someone to chat with, it'd be great to have an excuse to laze around and not work for a bit." He drawled. Well, Connor might be on his man-period, but Greg was here. He kind of reminded me of my best friend back in 2012. Ah, yes, how we did goof off in class and get yelled at by our teachers. For a while, we just talked about ourselves, me leaving out the whole "future" thing. Turns out his father was one of the crew here, and he, as an only son, was to take up his father's trade. He seemed dedicated to making his family proud and taking up his dad's work. When I explained to him my parents were "merchants", they both worked-or will work- at grocery stores and fast food restaurants, he asked why I didn't want to.

"Well, to be honest, I've always been more interested in art and making things with my hands." I paused. "And I'm going to be going out killing people. Ah, well, close enough."

He chuckled, then got quiet. "If the opportunity arose, would you go after that dream instead of learning from Connor?"

I considered. "Well, it would be safer wouldn't it?" I smirked. "But I don't think I would, he's practically an older brother to me. Besides, someone's gotta put him in line, and the only one allowed to do that is me."

"Why is that?" Greg grinned.

"I'm the only one who can stand him." We both laughed. and said goodnight when we retreated under the deck to retire for the night. I flopped down on the stiff cot in my cabin. Not that I minded, I'd slept in dirt, on wood, hell I've woken up in positions only gymnasts should be able to manage. As I drifted off to sleep, I couldn't help but think. _Connor, you're such a prima-donna._


	8. Please Don't Stop the Music Chapter 8

_**Alright, so, given the fact that the last chapter's file was deleted by accident and I've been busy with other projects in school the past couple weeks, I've decided to take an idea from Ravie who reviewed and was wondering what Connor would think of 21**__**st**__** century media. This should be fun. Sorry for the short unannounced hiatus, and I'll try to keep up with chapters more. BUT I have finished AC3 now, so I have a lot of the main story planned out. :) **_

"Just let me say one thing, I've had enough. You're selfish and sorry, you'll never learn how to love. As your world disassembles, better keep your head up. Your name, your face is all you have left and now, betrayed, disgraced. You've been erased. So long! So long! I have erased you. So long! So long! I've wanted to waste you. So long! So long! I have erased you! I have escaped, the bitter taste of you!" I paused for the small instrumental. "Just let me clear my head, I think I-"

Connor interrupted my amazing solo."What are you doing?" I tore one of my ear-buds out and asked him to repeat the question.

I sighed and glared at him. "Becoming a swiss banker. What does it _look_ like? I'm singing,_ duh_." I rolled my eyes. Jeeze, Connor, use your eyes and ears for once.

"The song sounds rather… different." He said. Oh, well, not like there's going to be some cultural differences developed over the next two centuries or anything. That there's blasphemy. I walked over to where he sat and plopped down next to him, right in front of the fire-place with a whetstone and his tomahawk. Holding the ear-bud out to him, I waited for him to take it as I selected "Call Me When You're Sober" by Evanescence. Also, I turned down the volume considerably so he wouldn't go deaf or something. As the song started, he seemed mildly content- so would I when a song started out with only a piano. When the other instruments joined in, he raised an eyebrow. I hummed along with it quietly. When it finished I made a gesture with my hand for him to say what he thought.

He thought for a moment before saying "It's definitely… intense?" Intense. Yes, well, Evanescence tends to be like that. Not that you would know given the fact that all the band members won't be born for more than a century and a half. Assuming the time-line stays mostly the same. I turned the lovely little piece of technology to shuffle, and the song that came on next was "Riot Girl" by Good Charlotte. He snickered as he listened and as that one ended, I quirked an eyebrow as I tried to figure out his issue.

"It reminds me of you, _riot girl._" he grinned. Rolling my eyes, I let the i-pod play several more songs from artists like The Plain White T's, Linkin Park, Skillet, Guns and Roses, Jason Mraz, Hoobastank, Nirvana, The Silversun Pickups, Story of the Year, Three Days Grace, and eventually Trapt. On louder, more metal songs, he tended to be uncomfortable. Otherwise he seemed to like most of it, especially The Plain White T's and a couple of Jason Mraz's songs for some reason. Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't have them if I didn't like them, but I just couldn't see him liking them. When I glanced at my i-pod and saw it's battery was about three quarters down, I jumped to turn it off.

Connor gave me one of _the most _childish looks ever. The one that you'd give your mother when she wouldn't let you have an extra cookie. At the thought I almost cringed. It might have been a while since I'd first come here, but it still hurt to think of home and my family. You never really get over that kind of thing. The assassin next to me tapped my shoulder and I stared at him until it clicked he had that expression asking why I did something.

"The battery is running kinda low. I haven't listened to it much, but it needs to be charged and I don't have any way to do that here." I mumbled. "Pretty soon I won't _be able _to listen to it." He nodded as I ventured up to the room I stayed in, tucking my precious into my bag and calling to Con as I went to visit Greg at the docks. Oh yeah, me and him were total bros, we caused _so much mischief._ As I jogged down the path I kept my eyes on the land beyond the beaten trail. Wolves weren't uncommon, and I'd already had a run-in with them, luckily I'd climbed a tree. Sand began to muffle my steps and I smirked as I sat on a crate with practically my only same-aged friend.

"So what's the plan for today, G?" Leave it to me to shorten one syllable names.

He smiled lazily at me. "Don't you think the crew have lost their fishy smell lately?" I nodded amusedly, I know where this is going. As we prepped our lovely little surprise for a couple sailor-men, we could barely stifle laughter. We slipped onto the boat, a half-drunk sea-man sniffing the air as we did so. After climbing on the lower part of a mast, we waited. The moment a figure passed below us, they got a net-full of bad fish and crab. Only problem was, that as me and Greg's faces fell with the realization of their identity, it was Mr. Faulkner. The two of us scrambled down and off the ship, running for places to hide as he shouted behind us. How I do love a good prank. What a shame not everyone did.

_**Sorry for how short this chapter is, and how long it took to get up, but school and whatnot has been a huge issue with it. However, to help the story along, give me ideas for side-chapters like this one. They help develop the story and characters, and they're fun to write. This goes to anyone who reads the story because it would just be really awesome of all you wonderful people. -MS**_


	9. The Fight Begins Chapter 9

_**WOW I've been gone forever, sorry about that, guys! School's been getting in the way, homework and all, plus I have to start getting ready for the state assessments for the end of each school year, so fun! But here, more fun times with the Amazing Mr. Kenway and the lovable Courtney!**_

I hurried up and ran into the manor. Just a few moments ago, I'd been sitting down with Myriam, she'd been teaching me this and that about herbs and such. And don't get me wrong, I really do love the idea of being able to just kinda be like "Oh hey, you have some deadly disease, lemme just go into the woods real fast and get some stuff for that, mmkay?", but the actual studying is a pain. What? I'm a teenager with a social life, give me a break! ... Well okay, it's a social life that consists of bickering with an assassin, helping out people about twice my age, and pulling pranks on the _Aquila's _crew, but that's besides the point.

Back to the real important stuff. I ran into the manor, undoubtedly looking like I'd rolled in a pile of leaves, given the fact that raking my hand through my formerly combed and neat hair awarded me with the pain of tangles and a handful of random debris. This'll be a pain later. Looking into the kitchen, I found ol' Conny boy sitting there in all his fancy assassin attire. Why didn't I get to have radical threads like that? He looked up at me.

"It's about time you got here. We have to get going. Pack up some things, this may take a while." He said, looking back to some piece of paper. I'd learned better than to question him as to where at this point. Instead I saluted him in a vaguely mocking gesture.

"Aye, aye, Cap'n!" I said as I started up the staircase. YES. We're going out and kicking some Templar ass! They better watch out, 'cause I'm the new and improved Courtney! Soon as they see me, they'll kneel in pure awe at my abilities, such a godly force will make them tremble to their very cores! Never before has such a wicked opponent been seen by the likes of them! By the time I'm done with them oh who am I kidding? I'll probably just stay around Connor anyways. As soon as I finished my totally amazing and confidence-boosting thoughts, I shoved some clothes, papers, books, small weapons, and a black and violet scarf I'd made myself into my lovely satchel bag. Yeah, I'd learned knitting from some old lady who'd passed by the Homestead. Nice woman, kind of reminded me of one of my friend's grandmothers. Although, I could barely understand her over her German accent. Let me tell you, never anger an old German woman, they will _mess you up_.

Once I'd finished packing my things up, I grabbed my old waistcoat off the back of a chair. I'd kind of grown attached to the old pomegranate piece of clothing, despite the fact it barely fit me at this point in time. I shrugged it on over my cream shirt. Grabbing my now heavy bag as I exited the room, I bounded downstairs.

"Hey, Connor, where'd you go?" I asked loudly. Leave it to him to tell me to get ready and then take about a half hour more to get himself ready. Sometimes I wonder why he's the one in charge rather than me. After waiting about two minutes for some sort of miracle granting me access to the knowledge of where my darling mentor was, he ended up dragging me through the door by the-you guessed it- arm.

"And here we go again…" I said grumpily. As per usual, he ignored my wonderful remarks on the way out of the homestead. Mainly little comments on how we seriously needed more people around here. Variety is a great thing, after all. As soon as we reached the main road, often patrolled by some guards which I tended to make the absolute funniest faces at when their backs were turned, he picked up the pace, kicking his horse's flank lightly. Copying the action, I made sure to throw some faces at the red-coats. That's right, I'm American, buckos!

"One of these days, your immaturity is going to get you killed." Connor said over his shoulder.

"Immaturity? What immaturity? I see no immaturity around here." I was barely holding back giggles.

"Perhaps you should take a look in a mirror sometime."

Oh that's just cold, man.

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After a couple days of camping out in the woods, learning from Connor brutal yet somehow humane ways to kill unsuspecting animals, and me falling into a stream-totally on purpose-, we'd reached Boston fairly late into the afternoon. What we were doing here, I had absolutely _no_ clue. Connor led the way through the darkening streets which were as bustling and noisy as ever. I wondered briefly what Boston was like back in the 21st century. Probably busier than it is even now. After walking through the streets for some time, Connor motioned towards one of the many buildings along the street, I guess we're here. Wherever "here" is. I watched as he walked up and knocked on the door. After talking to some guy for a moment, the assassin hurried over to me.

"Stay around this area for the time being, there's no telling what could happen with how things are right now." He said in an unusually rushed tone of voice. I nodded lazily, looking around the area. He took hold of my chin and turned me to look him in the eye, shooting one of his infamous subtle glares my way. "I mean it, Courtney. Things are starting to boil over in Boston."

I stepped back, leaning against the wall and sliding down it to a sitting position. "I get it, I get it, Jeeze, you'd think I was five with the way you treat me." I muttered with a glare of my own. I'm a teenager, not a toddler, get it right Con. He shook his head, stepping into the house. The door closed behind him. I could hear voices drifting out of the structure, and for a couple minutes, strained my ears to eavesdrop in on the conversation. I caught fragments, "…readying an assault… Lexington… taken shelter… weapons and supplies…" all of it coming from, presumably, the same guy. I had heard Lexington somewhere before, but I could barely remember anything I'd learned back in History class right now. It was probably nothing too important. After that I gave up and just relaxed a bit. Connor liked to get all the details he could on things, not that I blame him, so this could take a while.

I was startled when two men strode out, casting glances back to the same guy as before, who was giving them some last orders, and at me. What, never seen an assassin girl before?

"No time for dawdling my friend, we have lives to save. Come on!" He said as he came out after Connor, who looked irritated as hell. Did he try giving Conny a hug or something? As far as I'd seen, I and Achilles were the only ones who wouldn't be literally pimp-slapped away if we attempted to touch him. I scrambled up and trailed behind them, soon recognizing the guy as Paul Revere. The very same guy with whom I'd pitched tea of ships with a while back. He smiled at me and I waved a little, moving to walk beside him. Might as well make a little conversation, right?

"So, long time no see?" I coughed. How do you start a conversation with someone you've only ever seen once, much less talked to?

"Indeed, I see you've stayed with Connor throughout this time."

I shrugged. "I've gotten attached. Even if he never tells me anything about what we're doing." I pointedly raised my voice a bit on the last part, receiving a scoff from the Mohawk in front of us.

Revere revered me with surprise for a moment*."You mean he hasn't told you yet?"

"Nope."

"We're going to need to wake up militia; the redcoats are getting ready to launch an attack on Lexington and Concord." THAT'S WHERE IT'S FROM, OH MY GOD. I barely kept in my internal screeching and played it off coolly by nodding ad saying it sounded interesting.

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I hauled in the canoe-boat-thing the rest of the way as Connor and Paul got up on a horse. Looks like I'd be going directly to Lexington while they roused the minute-men. Just as Connor was getting ready to go, I stopped him.

I took a deep breath and made it seem as if I were being as sincere and meaningful as I could. "Stay golden, Ponyboy. Stay golden." I waited until they were out of earshot before laughing. Oh, references, how I love you. I ran off into the woods, getting up a tree and tree-running as fast as I could in the direction Connor had pointed out. It's amazing what a year of assassin-training can do for your body. I had to admit, I did feel proud of myself; three months from being fifteen and I was in the fittest form I'd ever been in.

After a while of jumping from tree-to-tree, I finally reached Lexington. The place was busy, to say the least. Men ran around the town, prepping things for the oncoming fight, no doubt. A vast majority of them wore blue overcoats. Looks like I'd be having to change my colors soon, pomegranate looks more like red by a landslide. I ran around, looking for whomever was in charge. This ended with me staying near an old man, who I assumed was a general or something along those lines. After a brief chat, I learned his name was John Parker and he was, in fact, in charge around here. This worried me a bit with how sick he must have been. After a few moments of me demanding to stay and him cursing at me to go find somewhere else to hide for now, I ended up staying to await Conny.

I'd chosen to take a nap against one of the crude stone fences, and woke up to sunlight. _Where in the hell…?_ Oh. Right. Lexington. Attack coming. Waiting for Connor. Where was he? I stood up, rubbing sleep from my eyes and trying to figure out what was going on.

Some people, mainly elders, the incapable, women, and children, were exiting to town. Men in blue coats were lined up with muskets, many shifting from foot-to-foot nervously. Parker stood barking orders between hacking coughs to them all. I walked around the premises with a sinking feeling that we probably wouldn't win this round. There weren't that many troops around on our side, and we didn't exactly have the best protection in the form of barricades and all. Venturing back to Parker, I spotted a familiar figure in white approaching. I almost ran up and hugged him, but jumped when Parker shouted, "Stand your ground, men! Don't fire unless fired upon! But if they mean to have a war, let it begin here!"

"Pitcairn." Connor growled as he reached us. Sure enough, in the lead of the red-coats was a man with a powdered wig sitting rather regally upon a horse.

"Disperse, you damned rebels! Lay down your arms and disperse!" He shouted to us. You know, you could just say "Give up and go away." It takes less time and everyone knows what you mean.

After he'd talked, gunshots were fired and I instinctively shot to the side behind a stone fence, barely avoiding the stampede of blue-coated soldiers that fled the scene. Connor dragged a shouting Parker to me, the two of them bickered in the heat of the moment.

"They're not coming back! You'll have to make do with those who remain!"

"Don't you lecture me on how-" The older man was cut off by more gunshots, and he straightened up a little. He began yelling orders to the men who had stayed. "Return fire! Return fire!" He turned to me and Connor. "You need to get to Concord and warn the others." Parker handed a letter to the assassin. "Show this to whoever leads there. Should be a man by the name of James Barrett." He told us urgently. "Go on now!" Parker said, waving us away. Connor immediately stood, running over to and mounting a horse. He held out a hand to help me up. Accepting the help, I clambered on behind him, scared half to death at this point.

As he urged the equine to a gallop, I shouted at him over the panic around us. "So we reach Concord and warn them, what then?"

"We stay and help out however we can!" He replied. As we rode through a town, I spotted a group of redcoats lining up to shoot some civilians. I jabbed Connor in the back and pointed to them. Making a sharp turn, he rode straight into the lobster backs, startling them and knocking two down. We hopped off and I ushered the now-semi-safe people to go. Connor went for attacking a standing red-coat. Needless to say, after a few seconds, the recoat no longer had to worry about his military career. Or breathing, for that matter. I drew out my short sword, lunging at another. I sliced at one of his calves, rolled behind him, and impaled him through the back. Turning to the remaining two, I pulled out my flintlock, aiming it at the left one and shooting him in the chest. Connor bashed in the remaining one's skull with his tomahawk, not a pretty sight, let me tell you. I had moved on from vomiting/dry heaving at the sight of a dead, bloody body, however.

I hopped up behind Connor on the horse, which appeared to be rather freaked out right now, and we continued on our way to Concord.

_***You see what I did there? "Revere revered." Ha, sometimes I like to think I'm funny.**_

_**There's Chapter 9! I'm sure you can all guess what Chapter 10 is going to be about. :) Reviews are welcomed as always!**_


	10. The Fight Ends Chapter 9 and a half

_**And here we are, happy early/late Easter/April Fool's day/whenever it is I get this up! And now, it's time for some ACTION!**_

As we raced through forest, towns, and the like, we were stopping to help out civilians and soldiers, at this point, we'd reach Concord WAY behind schedule! We couldn't just… _leave them to die_, though. We're better than that. I looked at Connor as he mounted the horse.

"We'll have to split up to accomplish everything we need to." I said to him. He looked at me as though I were insane.

"What? Courtney, you know that's a stupid idea!"

"We're never going to reach Concord if we keep going at this pace, and YOU know THAT." I glared at him defiantly. "I'll go slower and help civilians along the way; you just try to get to general-admiral-what's-his-face. Besides, horses like you more than me."

He stared at me for a bit, until an explosion, closer than the rest, ripped us from the huge moment. He sighed and said lowly, "You're sure you can handle this?"

I hesitated. Okay, so let's sum this up real fast, I'm a teenager with a self-inflated ego, a short sword, a pistol, a couple daggers and knives on my person, a bad temper, and an attitude that can appear, disappear, and reappear in a matter of seconds. Couple all that with the training I've gotten from a literal killer, I stand a chance at making it through this. Then there are the explosions. Let's cross that bridge when we get to it, i.e. when I'm blown to smithereens. Such faith in myself! I nodded and motioned for him to get going before I changed my mind.

"Take care of yourself!" He called as he got further away. I waved to him to show I'd heard. Turning around, I began to run throughout the town, putting all the practice with tree-running into use. It was kind of nice not to have the only thing keeping you from plummeting to your doom not bend under your weight, really. After a short while, I found another group of red-coats lining up to fire away at a group of youngsters and women. _Aw hell naw. _I leaped off the building, rolled when I hit the ground, and sprinted at the men. I crashed into one, causing the both of us to tumble to the ground and nearly bring another with us. Much to my relief, the damsels in distress and their children fled the scene. That's one less thing for me to worry about.

I scrambled up, not having enough time to draw a weapon before I was narrowly dodging attacks from an actually semi-attractive red-coated guy. Whomever said that bad-guys were ugly must've not been in a legitimate fight like this. I hooked a leg behind his own and tripped him up, giving me enough time to jump away a bit and draw two daggers. When one of them aimed a stab at my stomach, I skirted to his left and slashed at his shoulder. If he lived through this, that'll leave a pretty mark. Unfortunately, he wouldn't get to tell the story of how a charming young girl left a gaping wound in his shoulder because my other blade tore through his uniform and into the back of his neck. I looked to the other two and avoided a bayonet spearing to my own neck.

One of my daggers fell from my hand when I was elbowed in the chest. "You cuntmuffins! That fuckin' hurt!" I snarled at them. They laughed at the words, which left a wide opening for me to fling my remaining dagger into one of their chests. He stumbled and crashed down. The last one and I stared at each other for a moment. This didn't last long; he lunged at me not a moment later. He managed to pin me to the ground and I bit his hand when he tried to get it near my throat, making him retract it and hiss.

"Wench, you have no business being out here in a war!" he sneered at me. I spat in his face. Literally, I might add. As he raised his bitten hand to wipe it off, I kneed him right in the groin. He groaned in pain and I rolled him off me. I considered letting him live for a moment, but then I realized he could possibly go stir up more trouble that way. So, I did what must be done. As I jogged away from the area, into the woods where Connor had gone, I stopped myself from thinking about how some of these guys must've had family. I kind of felt bad and a tad sick to my stomach because, well, they're just taking orders. That's their job. I'm not even obligated to do this; Connor isn't _forcing _me to fight, after all. I shook the thoughts away, concentrating on finding more people to help.

I drew my pistol when I saw two blue-clad soldiers struggling against six lobster-backs. Taking careful aim given the fact I was shaking a little, I shot off a round, reloaded, and shot off another. I hit two, one immediately collapsing and the other clutching at his arm. The reds looked around confused, until the saw me. Two uninjured ones started heading my way. I unsheathed my trusty short sword as soon as I'd finished reloading my flintlock. I was ready when they got there, and made short work of the first as I left a deep gouge in his side. Glancing to the blue-coats, I noticed they were definitely better off, having offed two of the three over there. The injured red-coat ran from the scene, still cradling his arm.

As this was going on, the one I was fighting managed to aim and bring his bayonet upwards, leaving a deep cut going from the right of my jaw, crossing the bridge of my nose, and bending back towards the right of my forehead, coming horrifyingly close to my eye. I stepped away and blinked as, what I could at least perceive, a lot of blood dripped down the side of my face. My vision blurred red in that eye, and I squeezed it shut in annoyance and pain. Great, now I have to use my weaker eye, the one that I got poked in when I was an infant. _Wonderful._ Having trouble seeing what I was actually doing, I fainted to my left, bringing up my sword to stab him in the jugular. I hissed as he fell, sheathing my sword and firearm. Damn, I'm going to have to get this nice addition to my formerly flawless face checked out later. Hearing shouts I looked up and felt my stomach sink to the bottom of the Mariana oceanic trench.

In front of me, cubic tons of red were heading right my way, towards Concord. Whirling around, I started my long sprint to said town.

WwWwWwWw-Connor's P.O.V. for the first time in this story ever. You're witnessing FF history, reader. _History-._wWwWwWwW

As I rode away from Courtney, I couldn't help the bit of fear that wormed itself into my stomach. It was rather funny to think such a strange girl had become such an important person to me. I, of course, didn't love her, that'd be strange, much more so than the relationship we have already. She was my apprentice, a close friend more accurately. As I rode past panicked people, I did my best not to trample anyone. Not that I didn't, unfortunately. When I finally reached Concord, I was ahead of time. I suppose I'd have to thank Courtney later for the extra warning they would have.

I spotted a man giving out orders, and proceeded to dismount and walk towards him, assuming he was James Barrett. There was no point in wasting time.

"Blood's been spilled in Lexington, and there's more to come. The Regulars are on the march." I said as I reached him. He stopped shouting commands to the men running around, and shot a condescending look at me. "You don't say? Why do you think I've men up here?" I had no answer for him and broke eye contact with him briefly. "Go home, 'fore you get yourself killed. I've enough to worry about without some green boy looking to play at hero." I swore I was about to start yelling at him. How could he be so ignorant? We were in the middle of war and he was blatantly rejecting the help I could offer!

"I can vouch for him." A familiar voice said. William Dawes. Thank the spirits. I nodded to Parker, regaining control of myself a bit.

"John Parker as well. " I said, bringing out the letter Parker had given to me. He took it, stepping away to look over it. I moved closer to Dawes and asked him quietly, "Where's Revere?"

"Captured."  
"What?"

"Fear not." He reassured me. "That man's no stranger to sticky situations. He'll be fine, I'm sure of it."

Barrett decided to speak again then. "Ahem! You ladies finished gossiping?" He looked to me. "Parker seems to think you're not completely useless. So I suppose there's a thing or two you might be able to help us with." He motioned towards the bridge I'd just crossed. Barricades lay on either side of it, men crouching behind them prepared muskets for use. "When the fighting starts, we'll need to hold those positions there. They're critical to the defense of Concord." He seemed to look at the soldiers as I did. "Good boys, not used to soldiering, they need someone with experience to direct 'em." Looking at him as I caught on, he nodded to me. "That something you can do?" I nodded, it may not be easy, but I was sure I could handle it. "You'd best be telling the truth."

"You have my word." I had to admit, I was growing tired of his doubt. Who was he to tell me I couldn't handle this when he scarcely knew me?

"Then I suppose all that's left to do is wait…" He trailed off, looking up the hill. He strode away, undoubtedly to help the troops prepare. I followed suit, assisting them in moving crates, barrels, and likewise. Where was Courtney? She should have been here by now! I worried briefly about all the possibilities. She could be laying dead out there. Or worse… I shook my head. She'd known the risks, she wasn't stupid. Not to say I wouldn't be enraged should I find something _had_ happened to her. I looked up when I heard an all too familiar, out of breath voice.

"The British are coming! I repeat, THE BRITISH ARE COMING!" I was slightly shocked when I saw Courtney, a soldier trailing behind her. I almost missed the red in the distance. I looked at her for a moment, confused. How on Earth had she managed to do that? She just shook her head and mouthed "Later."

"MAN THE BARRICADES!" Barrett shouted as I ran to mount a horse. I started forward, but he held out an arm to stop me. "No! Ensure my men hold those positions! If the Red Devils break through, we're finished!"

"What would you have me do?"

WwWwWwWw-Returning to Courtney's P.O.V. now.-wWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWwWw

I watched, exhausted, as Connor went to direct the troops on the field. I stumbled over to a tree and slumped down on the side opposite all the fighting. I closed my eyes and jumped when I felt something cold and wet on my face. I opened them to find a brunette man in a dull gray jacket holding a washcloth to my face. He smiled at me.

"I see you're a friend of Connor's. Mind introducing yourself?" I blinked a bit. Wow, did being a friend of Connor's mean you got some sort of pass to people liking you? If so, I wasn't complaining. I cleared my throat, hoarse from sucking in air while running here, and did a funny sort of sitting bow and smiled.

"Courtney, friend and apprentice of the legendary Connor, artist extraordinaire, and sarcastic wonder for all to see." I sighed as I started slumping again, hissing when he pressed the cloth to the cut again in order to clean it.

"William Dawes, nice to meet you. I'd have preferred it be under less drastic circumstances, however."

"Well, look at it this way; you get to touch the face of a beautiful young woman!" I joked. At the moment, I was too tired to care if I didn't know him. Making smartass comments was how I calmed myself down. He chuckled a little.

"I suppose that's true. Now, how did you get a wound like this?" Seems my injuries were causing everyone concern now. I feel so loved.

"Well, I was saving the lives of two of our own soldiers, fighting off these-ouch- red-coats. There were about six of them in all. I whipped out my flintlock, and BAM! One down, and another-ow- seriously injured before the other two they'd sent my way even got to me. I took out-ow- my short sword, and one was dead before he even knew what was happening. I looked to the b-owowow _ow_- blue coats, and saw they were doing much better, when I turned back, the last little bastard standing managed to rake the bayonet of his gun across my face. Of course, he didn't-ooowww- last very long after that." I whined occasionally as I told the story, hey, you try getting a big cut across your face and then have someone clean it out with a rag and water. Not fun, let me tell you.

"A brave young woman, I see." He seemed amused, to say the least. I doubt he believed me, but hell, I wouldn't have believed myself if I traveled back-er, forward in time to say I'd be living during the Revolutionary War, end up killing people, and be the apprentice of a hot assassin. Wait, did I just- Nah, couldn't have. Probably just a slip of the tongue. Or would it be mind? Dawes and I continued to chat as the battle raged on. I jumped a few times as I recounted what had been going on in the past two days due to the gunshots ringing out. Upon telling him that I'd only gotten _maybe _three and a half hours of sleep earlier, he told me to get some rest. After the day having been so long, I took an uncomfortable thirty minutes to fall asleep after he'd left.

I was so tired, I didn't notice when a certain Native picking me up and setting me on a horse after the final gunshots had ceased.

I even slept through the ride.

_**And that concludes the Lexington and Concord mission! We even have a little Connor P.O.V. in there, despite how poorly written he is in that chunk. **_


End file.
